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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27308737">Thread of Hope</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tish/pseuds/Tish'>Tish</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Terror (TV 2018)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Character Study, Gen, Psychological Horror</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 20:14:33</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>307</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27308737</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tish/pseuds/Tish</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Henry Collins is slowly unravelling, but there's a thread of hope.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Trick or Treat Exchange 2020</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Thread of Hope</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/inquisitor_tohru/gifts">inquisitor_tohru</a>.</li>



    </ul></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="western">The scrambling of the shadows across the hold jolted Collins back into reality as the crewman walked by, lantern held high. How long had he'd been down here, staring into darkness, waiting for the blackness to swallow him entire? He shuddered to think of it, so he pushed the hollow thoughts further into his mind, then crept slowly away to the stairway, suppressing the shake in his hands as he gripped the ropes to ascend the decks.</p>
<p class="western">The light, heat, and noise made him pause as he pulled himself up, emerging near the galley into a throng of men loitering by the cookstove. Snatches of conversations, filthy jokes, and laughter drowned out the sibilant whispers that taunted him from inside himself. If he listened hard enough, he could make out words, but the words terrified him enough to want to slice away his ears, knowing he would still hear their tempting horror if he did so.</p>
<p class="western">Entering his tiny bed-cabin, Collins sat on the edge of his bed, the door smothering the sounds a little. Rocking back and forth, he fought to organise his thoughts, to bring order to his tumultuous feelings. Prayer hadn't helped, nor had exhausting himself with extra duty. He wrung his hands together and stood, admitting to himself for the first time that he needed help.</p>
<p class="western">In Henry's mind, the image of Doctor Goodsir's concerned face and the sound of his gentle voice comforted him a little. <em>Yes, the doctor will be able to help me</em>, he thought to himself, clinging to the hope like an anchor.</p>
<p class="western">Working up his courage, he slid his door open to an eerie quiet, and wondered where everyone had gone. The word scuttled from its hiding place as enlightenment dawned. Carnivale!</p>
<p class="western">Hoping to catch Goodsir, he set out for the sickbay, clutching tight his thread of hope.</p>
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